Sit With Me
by Lake of Rage
Summary: (EliHecLyn oneshot. Prompt fill: "sitting on someone's lap" with the Blazing Sword trio.) "...Hector," Eliwood said from behind him, sounding both amused and bewildered at once. "What exactly are you doing?"


_(Prompt fill: "sitting on someone's lap" with the Blazing Sword trio.)_

 _This was super cute to write. I absolutely love these three, and, though I adore FloLyn and EliHec, there will always be a special place in my heart for EliHecLyn. How could there not be? They're just so... perfect._

 _Anyway, let's get this show on the road._

* * *

"…Hector," Eliwood said from behind him, sounding both amused and bewildered at once. "What exactly are you doing?"

Hector's eyes flickered back towards him for only a second before dismissing him. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he responded gruffly, burying his chipped iron axe into the trunk of the tree in front of him.

Eliwood huffed out a laugh. "Okay," he chuckled, "maybe I asked the wrong question. Hector, _why_ exactly are you doing that?"

Grunting nonchalantly, Hector pried his axe from the tree and took another swing. "I'm tired and it's wet here," he answered, as if that made any sense. With a mighty heave, he once again wrenched his axe free, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder. "You're tired, too," he stated matter-of-factly. "Hold on a minute. I'm almost done."

Raising an eyebrow, Eliwood silently watched as Hector continued chopping at the tree, embedding his axe slightly deeper into the wood each time. His eyes strayed to the side, searching for the rest of their company, but the fog was too thick to tell how close they were – or how far they'd strayed. Even Merlinus' brightly-colored wagon was swallowed by the mist here on the Dread Isles.

They really should've been helping set up camp, and Hector didn't seem to have any real reason to be chopping down a random tree, too soggy to be used for firewood, instead of lending a hand. He'd spent his entire life dealing with Ostian nobility and their tendency to be unnecessarily cryptic, though, and he'd become accustomed to just taking Hector and Uther at their word. So, with a shrug, Eliwood accepted the vague not-quite-answer and leaned against a nearby tree branch to wait.

"Y'know," he remarked as he watched his oldest friend work, "if you're so tired, then you should probably be resting in camp, not giving yourself more work."

Hector grunted noncommittally. His axe cut into the tree with ease, the wood splintering and creaking around it.

Eliwood furrowed his brow. "Uh, Hector… I sure hope you know what you're doi–"

"Timber," Hector interrupted, and the tree came crashing down, hitting the ground with a thundering _crash_ and a gross _squelch_ of mud.

Eliwood made an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, which he would deny until the end of his days, then cleared his throat. "So, did you have a reason for doing that, or…?"

Rather than respond, Hector grabbed the newly-felled tree by one of its branches and dragged it aside, placing it next to a still-standing tree. Then, with a beleaguered sigh, he practically collapsed onto its trunk, lazily discarding his battered old iron axe and propping Wolf Beil up next to him. The log was thick enough to support him in all his armor, but the poor tree's few branches were spindly and weak, and several of them snapped off.

"I needed a place to sit," he said simply, sagging down into a slouch. "Gods, I'm sore."

He couldn't help it; after a brief moment of silence, Eliwood burst out laughing, quickly slamming his palm over his mouth to contain a series of snorts and chortles.

Hector glared at him half-heartedly, though he didn't bother sitting all the way up. "Shut up."

"H-Hector," Eliwood wheezed, voice muffled through the hand over his mouth, "you could've just sat on the ground."

"I would've got a ton of mud in my armor, then," Hector grumbled. There were already a few layers of dried mud crusted over his greaves which would be an absolute pain to wash out, and he had no intention of giving himself more laundry to do.

Finally managing to stem his flood of laughter, Eliwood stepped towards his friend, though he kept his hand up to hide his grin. "We're setting up camp right now, Hector. You could've just waited a few minutes to get your tent and cot set up."

Hector waved the idea off. "The cots and tents are gonna be drenched, if the state of Merlinus' wagon is any indication."

"That log isn't exactly dry," Eliwood pointed out.

"A bit of wet bark is better than a ton of mud or a sopping-wet sleeping pad," Hector responded with a shrug.

Eliwood snorted. "Alright, Hector. Whatever you say." Unfastening his sheathed rapier from his hip, he leaned it up against the log next to Hector's axe, then squatted beside him. "Oswin is going to be cross with you, though."

Opening one eye, Hector shot him an odd look. "Eliwood, my man, I didn't chop down this tree so you could squat in the mud," he said simply, opting to ignore the remark about Oswin. Sitting up just slightly, he patted the log next to him invitingly, his gauntlets clanking.

Eliwood shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't have armor like you," he muttered, gesturing vaguely to his tunic and trousers. "Forget wet beds – if I sit down, I'll end up with a sopping-wet backside for my troubles. And… well, I didn't exactly pack a change of clothes."

For a moment, Hector just stared at him with one eye, his expression completely blank. Then, with a soft snort of his own, he closed both eyes again, leaning back against the standing tree behind him. "Fool," he muttered fondly.

With that, he reached out, grabbed Eliwood by the collar, and yanked him forward.

With yet another surprised squeak that he would never acknowledge again, Eliwood scrambled for balance, automatically wrapping both arms around the nearest solid object – Hector – and trying to get both feet on the ground. Only when his boots were planted firmly in the mud again did he realize that he was now seated in Hector's lap.

"Hector!" he scolded, his face going crimson, but Hector just grinned, shooting him a half-lidded sidelong glance.

"You said you didn't want to sit on the log, didn't you?" he drawled, wrapping an arm around Eliwood's waist to steady him. "Well, problem solved. I mean, you don't seem to mind."

Suddenly aware of the fact that not only was he awkwardly perched on Hector's lap, but he was also still clinging to Hector's shoulders for balance, Eliwood hastily let go, instead crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "Hmph," he grunted, turning away deliberately.

Hector laughed heartily, his arm tightening a little around Eliwood subconsciously. It didn't escape his attention, though, that, for all his pouting, Eliwood made no attempt to remove himself from his lap.

Someone cleared their throat, and both boys startled, heads snapping up.

At the edge of the clearing, only half-visible through the milky fog, stood Lyn, looking like she wasn't sure whether to be amused, stern, or just vaguely confused.

For a moment, they just stared up at her as she surveyed the scene, taking in the felled tree, the battered old axe, Hector's lazy slouch, and Eliwood's rigid posture and awkward position. Then a sort of smug grin spread across Lyn's face and she snorted, breaking the silence.

"Let me guess," she said. "That loud noise I heard was you cutting down a tree just so you'd have a place to sit, the first shriek I heard was Eliwood when the tree fell, and the second shriek was Eliwood again when you pulled him into your lap. I get everything right?"

Hector stifled a guffaw. "Uh. Yeah, that about covers it."

"I do _not_ 'shriek'!" Eliwood shrieked, shooting them both an indignant glare, but Lyn only laughed, crossing the clearing until she was standing before them, hands on her hips.

"You two should've helped us set up camp," she scolded lightly, but the grin didn't leave her face. "Oswin and Marcus are very… not pleased with you."

That, at least, earned a wince from them both. "Er… yes, I suppose they wouldn't be," Eliwood muttered, already envisioning the lecture that awaited him once he returned. _"How can a boy your age still be so irresponsible?"_ and _"Any number of things could've happened to you"_ and _"You need to act in a manner befitting of your station, milord."_

Hector must've been imagining a similar lecture from Oswin, because he looked somewhat contrite for the first time in his life. "Well," he muttered with a disgruntled shake of his head, "I guess that's just all the more reason not to go back to camp yet."

"Do what you want," Lyn responded with a casual shrug, stretching her arms above her head. "Me, I'm going back to my tent. At least it's a little warmer there."

Eliwood made a soft, distressed noise, and she paused. "No, come sit with us!" he insisted, shifting around in Hector's lap until he was comfortable.

Lyn huffed out a laugh. "I'm sure you two are having fun, Eliwood," she teased, gesturing vaguely to their somewhat awkward seating arrangement, "but I don't want to get soggy bark all over my clothes."

Hector and Eliwood met eyes, identical expressions of childish glee on their faces.

Before Lyn could react, each boy grabbed one of her wrists and pulled, and she toppled into Hector's lap with a surprised yelp.

"Gah! Oi, let go of me!" Immediately, she began to struggle half-heartedly, finding her balance much quicker than Eliwood had and swatting at Hector's chest, but she was laughing all the while. "You idiot, we're all gonna fall!"

"We will not," Hector scoffed, adjusting his hold on Eliwood and leaning further into the log. Eliwood shifted to accommodate, and, for a moment, all three wobbled around in a tangle of limbs as they tried to find a position that was both stable and comfortable for everyone. Finally, they ended with Eliwood sitting on one of Hector's legs, leaning against the larger boy's chest, and Lyn perched on the other, her own legs draped over Eliwood's lap.

Giggling helplessly, Lyn pressed her forehead to Hector's shoulder. "Let go!" she laughed, pushing half-heartedly at Eliwood's arm.

"We will not," Eliwood replied in a faux-serious tone, struggling desperately to keep his expression somber, despite the grin that was trying to emerge. "There is no escape. You're stuck here with us forever now. I hope you like listening to Hector badmouth the other Lords, because that's all… he… e-ever–"

Before he could finish, he burst into laughter, and simply remaining seated became a challenge as each guffaw threatened to send him topping. "Th-that's all – he ever – _talks_ about," he wheezed between laughs, clutching Hector's neck for dear life to keep from falling.

Hector chuckled, and, with his ear pressed up against Hector's collarbone, Eliwood could hear the laughter rumble in his chest. "At least I'm not so concerned about keeping my butt dry," he ribbed, elbowing both Eliwood and Lyn in turn.

"H-hey," Lyn giggled, "not all of us can wear full armor all the time, you fine fool!"

"You can _too,"_ Hector replied, "you're just cowards!"

That sent all three of them into a fit of hysterics, and they huddled even closer together, laughing like madmen. Were it not for Hector's arms around them and the tree behind his back, they probably would've fallen unceremoniously into the mud below. As it was, they just clutched each other tighter, the felled tree creaking ominously underneath their weight.


End file.
